• • •
I'm going to kill Sloan. No one gets under my skin like that man does. Of course, I would never tell him that he would never let it go and would forever torment me.
Apparently, for murder, it's 25 years to life. The question is, would I give that up for him? No. It doesn't mean I wouldn't murder him, though. I guess I would have to hire a hit on him. I couldn't possibly ruin my nails. I've spent years growing them out and if mother ever noticed they weren't well kept, well, I would never hear the end of it.
Yet, staring at what was my presentation on the board, I'm reminded of why I hate that man. Stupid ship-boy.
The classroom is covered in various designs. It has pencils and fabric scattered around. Pincushions and measuring tapes line the back. Multiple mannequins are in each corner containing designs from other students. Standing in front of the rest of my classmates, I should be telling them about my latest design. I don't know how he has done it, but he has changed my digital sketches and now I have to run with it. Or I'll look like a fool.
What was a gorgeous navy blue one-shoulder dress was now black and yellow striped with the words 'Queen Bitch' on the front. My class knows as well as I do I would never wear such a thing and he knows that. That is why he has done it after all.
I try to keep my cool as Mrs Buckle raises her eyebrows in surprise at my design. She's a curvy woman in her early 50'swith bright green eyes. Her greying hair is pinned up in a bun on the top of her head. I have never had any problems with her and her name is quite fitting, seeing as she teaches fashion design.
"My idea behind this design is that of nature." I swallow and lock eyes with those that are the colour of gingerbread. He's leaning against the door frame, his right leg over his left with his arms crossed. He's covering his smile with his hand. I hate it. I narrow my eyes towards him and he smirks, dropping his hand to rub his chin.
Mrs Buckle notices Sloan and smiles to herself. She knows he has tampered with my work before. I clear my throat and rack my brains for something else to say to convince everyone that I designed it.
"In fashion, I feel like we could learn from a honeybee. Not only do they extract life from flowers and use that to make their essence." I explain, locking eyes with ship-boy again. His expression is blank, and he knows I am somehow going to talk my way out of this one.
Too bad the damage is already done. I will come for him.
"They also don't need the opinion of others. After all, they are the queen. There is no king" His jaw clenches and his eyes darken. This has nothing to do with the designs but everything to do with us. Delete that. There is no us. Everything has to do with our resentment towards each other.
"In fashion, we should stop listening to others and start designing, wearing and flaunting for ourselves. So what if our skirt is too short? We like how soft our thighs are. So what if our skirt is too long? Maybe we like to appear taller?" I watch my classmates nod and murmur in agreement.
I hate to say this. And I really do. But this is a good point to make. Damn him.
"I choose this design as a representation of diversity. A representation of self-love and acceptance. A way to view our bodies as a temple. Something to cherish instead of criticising." I can hear him scoff and watch as he shakes his head in disbelief.
He can take his disbelief and shove it up to his you know what.
"So I present, Queen Bee," I finish, breathing out slowly and placing a hand on my chest. My heart is beating wildly and I can't believe I spun a load of rubbish. In my previous presentations, I have had to create scripts, learn them, burn them and pretend I had never used one.
"Lovely darling lovely. Great work. I can't wait to see something in action. Let me know when I can sample Evanna." Mrs Buckle chimes as she waltzes through the desk and gives me a peck on the cheek.
I flash her my picture-perfect smile, nod my head and assure her she will be the first to see them. The bell rings shortly after signalling the end of the day. I quickly rush to grab my purse so I can catch him. I watch him turn to head into the hallway, but my sweater catches the corner of the desk and snags me.
I pout seeing a thread on the newest season of Dior and hurry after him.
"Sloan," I growl, rushing my way through the halls as they continue to get busier. It's Friday, so everyone is rushing through the red locker halls to get out for the latest gossip or hangouts.
"Evanna," He growls back, turning to throw me a wave.
"Ship-Boy I mean it," I huff, struggling to keep up in my Louis Vuitton heels. I shove past people and continue behind him. This is the only time I will admit that it is a good thing that he is tall. It means I can keep track of him.
"So do I, Thorn," He drawls, turning around and walking backwards while keeping his eyes on me. He grins at me. I hate him so much.
As I'm about to give him a piece of my mind, he winks and turns back around as I'm grabbed around the arm and yanked into my friendship group.
"Let him be Evanna. God, you're so obsessed." Lucy snarks, looking into her compact mirror. Isabel nods her head in agreement.
"Excuse me? He ruined my latest designs." I scoff, placing my hands on my hips.
"So what? You're not going to make them, anyway. When was the last time you picked up your sewing machine?" Isabel asked. I knew what she was doing, but I let her do it, anyway. I guess this is the cost of friendship.
"Whatever. I'm still going to give him a piece of my mind." I smooth down my sweater with sweaty hands and ignore their stares.
"Are you coming or not?" I raise an eyebrow. "I guess I'll give you my Dior bags another day," I question, knowing they would do anything for them. It's not like I need them. I'm pretty sure I have 12 shelves full of them at home.
They nod their heads at me like puppets, and I roll my eyes. Walking to the on-campus rink, I think back to everything. It's funny when someone is alone, we automatically presume them to be lonely. Yet, no one questions those that are surrounded by people. I have seen it first hand. Felt it first hand.
People think being popular is fun. It's lonely.
The rink is big and spacious as we push through double doors. But the smell of sweat, dampness and the slightest tinge of men's aftershave hits right as you enter. I wrinkle my nose and look around at all the trophies and framed pictures. They line every shelf available and Sloan's face is on most of them. Such a golden boy.
The sound of skates moving along the ice and sticks knocking together fills the air. I'm reminded of why I never come here. My phone ringing in my pocket breaks me out of my train of thought and I reach into my bag and pull it out. Mother flashes across the screen. I have to repress a sigh.
"Back in a min. Wait here."
"Mother," I answer, strutting around the corner from Isabel and Lucy and stopping by a blue door.
"Evanna, did you eat breakfast this morning?" Is all she asks. My heart sinks as I realise I will never get a how's your dayor how was class.
"No," is all I can get out as I swallow in an attempt to get rid of the lump appearing in my throat.
"Good. The pills?"
"I took them. Like you asked."
"Very well then. We need to reevaluate your diet. Your stylist has reported you to have an extra inch on your waist." By her tone of voice, I know she isn't happy.
"No, I haven't. Every week I check." I reassure. I try to stop the panic from forming, but it doesn't work. I can feel the invisible arms winding around me and squeezing. The hands around my throat stopped my breath and the foot pressed down on my chest. Darkness surrounds me once again.
Then the worst thing happens. My eyes lock with those that are ginger through the window. Sloan is behind the door. In the room, I'm just outside of, which means he heard.
I can hear my mother on the phone, but I pull it away and hang up, her words ringing in my head.
"Sloan," Shoving the door open, I shake my head and watch as his eyes light up.
"Wow. If the others found out you used pills to keep your figure intact rather than working hard like the rest of us, I'm sure they would be thrilled, Thorn." He's being sarcastic. I hate him for it. He can never be serious for one moment in his life.
"No. That's not what this looks like."
"Oh?" He laughs, walking closer to me. "I know what I heard. You never work for anything, do you?" His eyes stare into mine and for once I can feel myself losing it. He must be ecstatic knowing he finally has something that could break me.
"Sloan, please," I begged for the first time in my life. I swear if he tells anyone about this, I will despise him 10 times more than I already do. I would hire that hit. Or I wouldn't care about my nails anymore, I would do it myself.
I reach for him as he backs away, but I'm interrupted once again by my friends.
"There you are. You took too long. Can we grab our bags now?" Isabel asks walking around the corner and spotting me.
"Yeah, I have to be somewhere."
Their conversation is just below the surface, turning into bubbles as I start to drown. In self-loathing or hatred for Sloan, I'm not too sure. I watch as he reaches the doors to the rink. He glances back once, winks, and opens the doors.
There Ronan is waiting for him already in his kit. He catches my eye and quickly flicks his gaze back to Sloan's figure. He could tell by my face that something had gone wrong.
But as I turn to my friends, neither of them notices as we exit the rink and walk towards the car park. They talk between themselves as we walk to my car so I can give them their bags, but I stay quiet. My mind is racing.
"Party - tomorrow - 9 pm."
"Where? Go - you."
"Sloan Murphy - hosting"
My focus is still in and out and I only hear parts of their conversation. They are making plans without me right in front of my face again, but I'm beginning to care less.
However, his name catches my attention and I slowly form a plan in my head.
Tomorrow, at 9 pm Sloan will not know what's hit him.
He wants to play dirty? Fine. I'll be filthy. Just for him.
• • •
So what do we think of Evanna?
What about Sloan?
I'm so excited to dive into their angst and especially their hate sex that is coming up soon!
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See you soon,
Winnie x
winnieiswriting 2021